Schola Obscura
by Spandrell
Summary: Harry and Snape have to solve a mystery in Salamanca, Spain. Slash. PostHBP, PostWar.
1. Prologue

Thanks to my beta Kalena, who also co-authored the prologue, and Charlie B., beta and Britpicker.

**Schola Obscura**

**Prologue**

_April 8th, 2003. Room 242, Ministry of Magic. Auror Division Internal Audit 947 B2, Subject Auror Level 2 Brian Maverick._

A bit nervous, Harry looked around the table. He had never even been present at an official inquiry before, and his instructions were on cards in front of him. At least he hadn't had to memorise anything. "Examiner, Auror Level One Harry Potter. Supervising is Auror Level 4 Gawain Robards, Division Head."

At a nod from his supervisor, he passed his hand over the Eye Of Horus, a floating orb that recorded all sense data including the participants' magical signatures, and it floated on to the Division Head before circling to Maverick.

"Let us begin. Auror Maverick, tell us about your investigation of Alfonso Parejo."

"The Auror Division was alerted to the movements of Alfonso Parejo by Madam Sophronia Lejeune, the recording secretary employed by the Wizengamot. She was uncertain as to his qualifications to be a member of that body, worried that Wizengamot members did not seem to be concerned, and requested that we look into the facts. His life history as we could discover it is recorded in detail in Report 77763, submitted March 2, 2003."

Harry nodded. "Thank you. Please give us a very brief summary of that report."

"In short, weird things happened to those with whom Parejo came into contact, and Parejo always ended up reaping huge benefits from the circumstances. Due to a series of bizarre and apparently casual events, Parejo had become wealthy and obtained a position in the Wizengamot, in spite of the fact that no one knew who he was or where he had come from."

This wasn't so bad, Harry thought. "And you were one of the Aurors assigned to his case, were you not?"

"Yes. I was assigned, along with Auror Nicole Hamblin, to keep Parejo under vigilance."

Harry sighed inwardly with boredom: he already knew all this! "So... Tell me what happened in the night of March 21, 2003."

"Parejo entered the 'Sloops & Galleons' pub, in Hogsmeade, and I followed him. When he was distracted, reading the _Daily Prophet_, I..." Maverick hesitated and glanced at Robards, who nodded for him to proceed. "I managed to drip a few drops of Veritaserum into his glass. He didn't notice it, and emptied the glass in one gulp. I sat at his table and interrogated him."

"What did Parejo tell you?"

"Parejo told me he had used powers of inducement to get people to do what he wanted. His technique was so good that the bewitched people didn't realise they were doing something against their own will. It was a spell similar to the Imperius Curse, but subtler... Then I asked him how he had learned such a spell. It was horrible... Parejo confessed he had learned everything he knew in a place called 'Schola Obscura', and started convulsing in pain, as if under Cruciatus. He eventually dropped dead on the ground."

This time Harry sighed loudly. "You are aware that giving Veritaserum to a person against whom there was no charge or evidence constitutes a violation of our Guideline 136, aren't you?"

"Yes. I agree to accept any penalties that may stem from it."

TBC


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter I**

Parejo's inexplicable death had created a serious problem for the Ministry, for the _Daily Prophet_ had insinuated that Maverick could have "exceeded his mandate" and caused Parejo's death. So there was Harry, working on his first major case since he had started as an Auror, seven months ago. The Ministry had to clean up its act, and Robards had assigned Harry this task.

Harry felt both proud and concerned: now he had a great responsibility on his shoulders. During two weeks, he researched the Schola Obscura in all the libraries of the Wizarding World. Long days spent poring over books produced little result: references to the subject were scarce.

There was a mention of the Schola Obscura in a biography of Michael Scot, a famous wizard who had worked in the court of Frederick II of Sicily, the Crimson King, in the beginning of the 13th century. According to this biography, Scot had learned all he knew in the Schola Obscura, in the cave of Salamanca. Other references came from history books, which mentioned medieval legends of dark angels who taught their secrets in the cave of Salamanca, in Spain. Other versions said the devil himself, incarnated in a certain Marquis of Villena, was the teacher.

Harry sent a group of Aurors to the place known as _la Cueva de Salamanca_, or the Cave of Salamanca. The team returned from Spain with the bad news that the place was closed to visitors. Harry knew the cave had been sealed by the Catholic Monarchs, Isabel and Fernando, in the 16th century, but he had never imagined it could still be closed. Annoyed but determined, Harry sent a second team with instructions to be as inconspicuous as possible, but not to return without having entered the Cave. The second team came back and reported that the Cave was actually not a cave at all, but the crypt of a ruined church, and that they hadn't found anything suspicious there. No one had found any sign of the elusive Schola Obscura.

Harry was contemplating the idea of spending a few days in Salamanca to investigate when Remus, who had come to the Ministry to fetch Tonks, approached his desk.

"Can I give you a piece of advice regarding your first big case?"

"Of course, Remus!"

"We both know a wizard who knows the history and the secrets of the Dark Arts more than anyone. I wouldn't go to Salamanca without talking to him first. I know he's not easy, Harry, but he helped us to defeat Voldemort. Perhaps you can convince him to help you. Go and talk to him. He makes the Wolfsbane for me every month. He charges for it, it's truth, but he charges less than the other few who can make the potion. It's a complex potion and demands a lot of time and effort."

"He charges you? What a bastard."

"He barely survives by selling his potions. Severus was cleared for lack of evidence, but the Wizarding World will never forgive him. He's a branded man."

"I did him a great service by not testifying against him in court. If I had gone and told what I had seen, he'd've been convicted. He's reaping what he sowed."

"You're still full of hate against him. Don't forget that, without him, we wouldn't have been able to defeat Voldemort."

"I know that, and that makes me hate him even more. He may well have killed Dumbledore at Dumbledore's request, but he's still responsible for Sirius's and my parents' deaths."

"Harry... Things are not as simple as they look. We need to talk one day, when we both have time. Now I must go: Nymphadora's tired. She shouldn't be working still. She's in her seventh month."

"Oh, she's fine, Remus. Don't worry."

Harry tried to reassure Remus, but he knew one of the consequences of the War was the fear of losing the beloved ones. Harry still hadn't entirely come to terms with the tragic loss of Ginny. He felt guilty, because Ginny — like Harry's mother, when he was a baby — had put herself in front of Harry when Voldemort had cast the Killing Curse on him. That moment had been indelibly imprinted in Harry's soul. He had defeated Voldemort, but only due to Ginny's sacrifice.

His friends had also helped him a lot. His friends and his nemesis... Without Snape, Harry wouldn't have managed to destroy all the Horcruxes — Harry acknowledged that. However, that wasn't enough to make him stop loathing Snape. It would be extremely distressing for Harry to go and ask for his help.

Harry procrastinated for three days, telling himself it wouldn't work, that Snape would never agree to help him. But on the fourth day, as Robards started showing signs of impatience with the lack of results, Harry's professional conscience finally got the best of him.

sSsSs

Harry Apparated at the end of a sombre street, over which a tall chimney hovered like an dark, ominous obelisk. The street was flanked by rows and rows of dilapidated brick houses, their windows broken or boarded up. He felt thankful for having decided to go there in the afternoon, during his working hours — at night, that street would be even eerier.

A gust of wind brought the unpleasant smell of the putrid river to Harry.

So that was Spinner's End, and that last house, similar to all the others in its abandoned state, was where Snape lived.

Gathering all his Gryffindor courage, Harry knocked on the door and waited.

And waited.

He knocked again, harder.

Nothing.

_Very well, _he thought. _If that's what you want, that's what you'll get._

Harry took out his wand and pointed it at the door. But before he could cast any spell, he heard another wizard shouting, "_Expelliarmus!_"

Harry's wand was thrown away and fell on the pavement. Harry glared daggers at Snape, who was watching him through the window with his unreadable look. Harry sighed and summoned his wand. "_Accio_ wand."

"_Expelliarmus!_"

The wand hesitated in the air for more than a second, fluttered and then fell again on the ground, this time closer to Harry.

"Listen," hissed Harry, "I didn't come here to play with you. I'm an Auror now and..."

"I am impressed, Potter. I would be trembling in my dragon-hide boots, if I had any. Kindly remove yourself from my door, or I may have a breakdown... That would surely further complicate the situation for your dear Ministry."

"Very funny, Snape, but I can arrest you for obstructing an Auror in his duties."

Snape flashed a sardonic smile. "In theory. In practice, this is something that remains to be seen."

Harry bit his lower lip. Things weren't going well, considering he was there to ask Snape a favour. "I just want to talk. Is this your hospitality?"

"Did you expect me to watch passively while you broke into my house?"

"Why didn't you open the door?"

"I was busy."

"Okay, but now you're here. Why don't you let me in, so that I can explain why I'm here?"

"I am not interested."

"Well, I won't go until you listen to me."

Snape narrowed his eyes and aimed his wand at Harry. "Don't be stupid. You are unarmed."

"What're you going to do, kill me?"

Harry's heart beat faster. Snape might as well cast an Unforgivable on him.

Snape made an impatient face. "You haven't changed. You are still the same stubborn, reckless boy. Come on in. The door is open."

Harry was going to summon his wand, but Snape had already done it in his place, and was now flipping it back and forth between two fingers.

Damn greasy bat. If Harry didn't need his help, he wouldn't have risked himself that way. And now he was feeling more vulnerable than ever: in the home of his nemesis and unarmed.

Harry's optimistic side insisted he had achieved his aim: he was entering Snape's house. However, that didn't seem a victory worth celebrating.

sSsSs

Harry carefully opened the door and stepped directly into a tiny sitting room. The walls were covered in old books. Everything there looked old: the sofa, the armchair, the table, and the candle-filled lamp that hung from the ceiling.

"Spit it out," snapped Snape.

"Aren't you going to invite me to sit?"

"Do you dare question my politeness, after practically breaking into my house?"

"Politeness? God forbid that I should expect that from you!"

"Potter, you want to be careful. I do not take cheek from anyone."

Harry took a deep breath. He would have to be diplomatic. "All right. It's not just a question of politeness, you know. I've a long story to tell, and _you_ will be more comfortable if you sit."

"By all means, if you want to sit down, do it, and stop beating around the bush. I have work to do. I am not a government official, living at the expense of the citizens."

Harry pretended to ignore the insult and carefully lowered himself onto the sofa, fearing it might crumble beneath him. Snape sat in the armchair facing the rickety sofa.

"I'll get straight to the point, to spare your precious time," Harry swallowed hard, in the hope that, if he did his best, he might swallow his pride. "In fact, I came on behalf of the Ministry."

Snape flipped Harry's wand in the air, with a triumphant look. "Well, well. This is getting better and better."

Harry forced himself to ignore the provocation. "I suppose you've read about Alfonso Parejo's death in the _Daily Prophet_."

"Tsk, tsk. Apparently one of your fellow Aurors committed a _faux-pas_. What is his name again? Maverick?"

"Parejo was bewitching people and taking advantage from them."

"What kind of spell was he using? Perhaps the Imperius Curse?"

"It was a kind of hypnotising spell. The victims didn't realise they were under a spell."

"How interesting."

"Maverick interrogated Parejo, and he said he was part of a certain Schola Obscura."

Snape straightened up in the armchair, clearly interested. "Really? And... what else did he say?"

"Nothing else! When Maverick tried to extract more from him, Parejo fell dead to the ground."

"In all likelihood, he had made an Unbreakable Vow not to reveal the location of the headquarters of the organisation."

"Do you know this organisation?"

"Potter, what do you want from me?" countered Snape.

"I've been researching for two weeks, and all I could find was that there was a Schola Obscura in a cave in Salamanca in the Middle Ages, and that Michael Scot learned dark magic there, from dark angels who came from the realm of the dead. I sent two teams to the cave, which is nothing but the crypt of a ruined church, and they came back saying they hadn't found any sign of the Schola Obscura. I thought that maybe you, as an expert on Dark Arts, could help me to solve this mystery."

Snape's lips curled in a sardonic smile. "Of all the Aurors in the Ministry, they chose to send _you_ to ask my help?"

"Er, no, it's not like that. I was assigned the case, and decided to come."

"Ah. They assigned _you_ the case! How long have you been working in the Ministry? Six months?"

"Seven and a half."

"I regret to tell you that your superiors are not only incompetent, but insane. Or perhaps they believe the Boy-Who-Lived to have special powers. Don't they realise the danger involved in this case? A group of dark wizards in communication with the dead?"

"Look, it's no use telling me that. I know very..."

Snape interrupted him. "I know why they chose you! They think that you, with your popularity, can earn people's trust and clear up the Ministry's act."

"I don't care. I want to solve the case. Will you help me or not?"

"You probably think I should be thankful to you for your absence at my trial. I have never understood your absence, but I am sure my well-being was never a concern for you."

Harry tried to remember why he hadn't gone. The truth was that, at that moment, Ginny's death had made him lose interest in the Wizarding World and its problems. For three months, he had wallowed in despair and depression. "That has nothing to do with the case. I'm not asking you a personal favour."

"I owe nothing to the Ministry. Perhaps you think I should be grateful for not being in Azkaban now? That's not how I see the situation at all. They took me to trial, exposed me to public humiliation, revoked my teaching licence, and reduced me to pariah status."

Harry couldn't say he was surprised; he didn't expect anything different from Snape. The selfish git could only see his side of the issue. Harry would have to bargain. "If you help me and solve the case... I may try and get you... with my influence... the Order of Merlin."

"Ah! The Order of Merlin. First class: I wouldn't settle for less. I am very moved," said Snape, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Then he stopped and looked thoughtful for a moment. "So... You need my help. The _Ministry_ needs my help! I have nothing to lose. I will solve this case for you. And when I receive this medal, I will spit on it, in front of all the politicians and the press."

Harry frowned. Then he shrugged. "If that's what you want to do..."

"I will help you, but under one condition."

"Name it," said Harry, bracing himself for the worst.

"You will be under my command."

"But... What're you planning to do? I must know."

"We will go to the _Cueva_ and inspect the place. You will be under my orders."

"Why?"

"The answer is simple, Potter: I don't trust you."

It wasn't a surprise, but it was never pleasant to hear such words, not even from the person Harry most loathed in the world. "The feeling is mutual," snapped Harry, between clenched teeth.

"Very well. The idea of being financed by the Ministry displeases me immensely, but we will have to spend at least two days in Salamanca, and I cannot afford a hotel."

"I'll talk to Robards. They will pay the hotel."

"So everything is settled. Reserve two rooms in a hotel and come back here the day after tomorrow, at the same hour."

"Er... Can I have my wand back?"

"I will be forgiving... this time," said Snape, handing Harry his wand.

sSsSs

Harry wasn't happy at all. That was a partnership doomed to failure. Obviously Harry wasn't going to abide by the agreement. He had agreed to obey Snape's orders just to convince Snape to help him. But if Snape wanted Harry to do something Harry didn't want to do... then it simply wasn't going to happen.

The problem was that Harry didn't have any alternatives. Robards, who was becoming more and more impatient, cheered when Harry announced he was going to Salamanca.

An unexpected problem occurred when Harry tried to reserve a hotel room in Salamanca: all hotels were booked, because the previous week had been the Easter holiday and next Monday they would have a local holiday, the "Lunes de Aguas". Tonks suggested him to try the hotels of some of the villages near Salamanca. After three more attempts, Harry found a room (and just one!) in an inn in the small village of San Isidro, just five kilometres from Salamanca, by the river Tormes.

On Friday afternoon, Harry tucked a pair of pyjamas, a T-shirt, three pairs of underpants and three pairs of socks into his rucksack. He put on his jeans, a white T-shirt and one of Molly's jumpers over it, and finally his trainers. Then he said goodbye to Hedwig and sent her to Hermione, closed his small house in Hogsmeade and Apparated again in Spinner's End.

This time Snape opened the door immediately. Harry gaped when he saw Snape dressed as a Muggle: black velvet trousers and a high neck cardigan. Harry couldn't help admiring Snape's slender line and elegance.

Snape frowned, and Harry felt his face growing hot as he realised Snape had noticed the way Harry was staring at him.

"Are you ready?" Snape asked impatiently.

"Yeah, but I... have something to tell you."

"What is it?"

"It's just that, as they have a local holiday next Monday, all hotels are booked. I had to reserve a room in a hotel, or rather an inn, in a nearby village, about five kilometres from Salamanca."

"And why is that a problem?"

"They had just one room available."

"Ah. At the risk of being repetitive, why is that a problem?"

"Er, well, if you don't think it's a problem, it's okay."

"Did you ask for a room with two beds?"

"Of course."

"Listen, Potter, if you feel threatened by my sexual preferences, I..."

"No! I didn't know you were... I mean... are you gay?" Harry realised Snape's patience seemed to be wearing thin. This time Harry couldn't blame him. Harry knew he was handling the situation very badly. "I'm sorry, you don't have to answer that. There's no problem."

"So, if you are ready, we can leave now. Have you got a map of the area?"

"Yes, I have." Harry opened his rucksack and produced a map. "It's here. In San Isidro de Tormes."

TBC


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

They Apparated in front of the Posada del Clavero. It was a rustic inn, with bare stone walls and a yellowed wooden signboard. The river Tormes ran behind it, nestled between green fields dotted here and there with leafy trees.

Entering the inn, they found themselves in a commodious hall, all in bare stone like the outside walls. On the right, there was a portrait of a man with a mane of jet-black hair, pointy nose, curled moustache, and a cheerful, festive air.

The reception counter was on the opposite side, on the left. An old man with grey hair and spectacles lifted his eyes to them and smiled. "Buenas tardes, señores! Espero que hayan tenido un buen viaje."

"Muy bien, gracias,"(1) replied Snape.

Harry hated Snape even more for speaking Spanish. When Harry had phoned, the old man (Harry recognised his voice) had spoken in English — with a slight accent, but rather fluently. Now, because Snape insisted on speaking in Spanish, Harry could barely understand what they were saying. Yet, Harry decided to keep calm and not say anything. He knew Snape was trying to upset him, and he wouldn't give him that pleasure. Finally, the old man — whose name was Alejandro Clavero, from what Harry could understand — handed Snape the key to their room and nodded at Harry.

Snape led Harry through a corridor to a wooden staircase. "There are no lifts, but luckily the house has just two floors. Our room is on the upper floor."

_Our room_. It was a very unlikely combination of words, coming from Snape's mouth.

At the end of the staircase, there was a corridor leading to five rooms all on the same side, except for the last one, which faced the corridor. The last one was their room.

Snape opened the door, and Harry followed him into a spacious, neat and apparently cosy room. The bare stone walls gave the room a rustic appearance, and a double bed made from antique pine, its high headboard carved with arabesques, dominated the space.

Snape slowly pivoted on his heel to face Harry. "Didn't you say you had asked for two beds?"

"I did! Damn. Maybe the old man didn't understand what I said. I'll go down and ask him to change it, or send an extra bed."

"Stay here. You can't speak Spanish. I will go and talk to Señor Clavero."

Harry put his rucksack on a round table, also in antique pine, and walked to the window. He pushed the curtain aside and was glad to see that the window faced the river — its silver-blue waters flowing swiftly between its green banks — and the mountains behind it. Harry opened the window to breathe the fresh air. A soft breeze caressed his face.

He was still admiring the landscape when he heard someone shutting the room door and turned to find Snape looking at him. "So?"

"Señor Clavero is deeply sorry and regrets to inform us that he doesn't have an extra bed available. He said the inn is full: the guests came for the Easter holidays and intend to stay until _Lunes de Aguas_. He explained that many families rent just one room, to spare costs, and ask for extra beds for the children."

"But he told me by phone that the room would have two beds!"

"He misinterpreted you. He understood you wanted a bed for two."

"Grr. What a moron. Well, we can always transfigure something into a bed."

"I will not sleep in a transfigured bed. As you know, transfigured objects are very unstable. I will not run unnecessary risks."

"Well, I don't want to run unnecessary risks either."

"This debate is fruitless. You will leave your bag here and accompany me to Salamanca. Perhaps one of us will die tonight; this way we will not have to face the _dishonour_ of sharing a bed," said Snape, in a mixture of rage and sarcasm that surprised Harry.

"We can always hope to solve the case and go back home tonight instead," countered Harry.

"Gryffindor optimism: completely unrealistic." Snape walked to the window bench where he had put his holdall. He opened the zipper of the leather holdall, took out two books and turned again to Harry. "Are you ready?"

"Yes."

Snape opened one of the books, a magical tourist guide of Salamanca. He showed Harry a map and pointed to a green area near the centre of the city, by the old Roman walls. "We will Apparate here. In this garden."

"The _Huerto de Calixto y Melibea_?"

"Precisely. Give me your arm."

"Why?"

"It will be safer if we side-Apparate under your Invisibility Cloak. Don't tell me you haven't brought it with you!"

Harry slipped a hand into his jeans pocket and pulled out the wrinkled Cloak. Snape seized it from his hands and, pulling Harry by the arm, put it on their heads.

sSsSs

Harry Apparated right beside an Acanthus bush, and the thorns brushed against his hip. Luckily, he was protected by his Cloak and his jeans. Snape was at his side, having comfortably landed on a shrub whose smooth leaves seem to recoil at his touch.

Harry glared at him.

"What is it, Potter, didn't you choose a _proper_ place to land?"

"Very funny. I bet you did this on purpose. You're so nasty that even the plant is flinching from you."

"It's a mimosa, also called touch-me-not. Its leaves are sensitive to touch."

Harry resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at Snape and walked away from the Acanthus. He found himself in a lush garden with olive trees, cypresses, acacias, walnut trees, mulberry trees, and hundreds of other trees and shrubs whose names he didn't know. "What a beautiful garden. Look, a well!"

"The legend says it was here that Melibea and Calixto met for the first time, and fell in love with each other."

"Have you been reading romance novels lately?" asked Harry sardonically.

"I did my homework in the last two days, and researched the city's legends."

"And how does Calixto and Melibea's story end?"

"Badly. For everyone. Even for Celestina, the most interesting character."

"Who was Celestina?"

"Celestina was a notorious procuress and, apparently, a Potions mistress. She was the one who made Melibea fall in love with Calixto, by means of a potion."

Harry looked at Snape with curiosity. "I thought you disapproved of love potions."

"I vehemently disapprove of them." Snape arched an eyebrow. "However, considering Celestina was a Muggle, her skills were admirable."

Harry couldn't help smiling. He had to admit that sometimes Snape could be funny.

"Come on. We don't have all day," said Snape.

"Where are we going?"

"To the _Cueva de Salamanca_, of course."

"Didn't you say we would have to wait for darkness?"

"We will have to wait _to enter_ there. However, it is always prudent to verify the location and explore the surroundings in advance."

Snape led him along a path among the trees to a gazebo. From there, they could see the river and part of the city. It was a splendid view.

Then they walked down the Cuesta de Carvajal, a wide passageway of shallow stone stairs that led to the _Cueva_. Finally they stopped in front of the wires that blocked the access to a huge Roman arch.

"This is the entrance to the ancient church of San Cebrián, one of the first churches built as part of the Christian repopulation of Salamanca in the 12th century. The church was tucked into the Roman wall of the city," explained Snape, consulting his guide book.

"And the _Cueva_ is the crypt of this church."

"The church was torn down in the 16th century, and most of its stones were used in the building of Salamanca's New Cathedral. This Roman arch remained miraculously intact, however. All that remained was half of the sacristy and the 23 stairs descending into the darkness of the crypt."

"Wicked!"

"It's also _wicked_, as you put it, that San Cebrián was a wizard before converting to the Christianity."

"So he was a traitor to the Wizarding World."

"I suppose you can consider him as such, from the point of view of the Wizarding World." Snape looked around. "There is nothing else to be seen here, for now. We can go back to the inn and wait for dinner time, which will be about ten o'clock..."

"What! Ten o'clock?"

"Yes. In Spain, people tend to have dinner late. It's perfect timing for us, as the sun will set by nine o'clock. As soon as we finish dinner, we will come back here."

"But it's too early. If we go back to the inn, we'll have nothing to do. Why don't we take a walk and see a little of the town? I'd like to see the two cathedrals, for instance."

Snape stared at him, as if puzzled and a bit tense. Then he smirked. "Funny. I would not have expected you to be interested in cathedrals, Mr Potter."

"Oh, there are a lot of things you don't know about me."

They walked along Calle del Silencio until the Patio Chico, where the two cathedrals could be seen together. The streets were full of tourists and young people.

It was an impressive view: both cathedrals were magnificent. Snape told Harry the Old Cathedral had been built between the 12th and the 14th centuries and mixed the Romanesque and the Gothic styles. The Romanesque constructions were very heavy and used barrel or groin vaults in the ceiling. Due to the weight of the stone ceiling, the wall of the church had to be very thick. Windows had to be small to keep weight-bearing walls strong, and the church's interior was dim. This was not solved until the Gothic style arrived, with its pointed arches and large stained-glass windows. The Gothic style, especially the Flaming Gothic, emphasized verticality and featured almost skeletal stone structures with great expanses of glass. So, the Old Cathedral was a strange mixture of heavy and light elements.

What most caught Harry's attention was the dome of the Old Cathedral.

"This dome is called Torre del Gallo, or Tower of the Cock," said Snape, a sneer on his face.

Was that an innuendo? Harry brushed the idea aside and ignored it. "I see. It must be on account of the weathercock on its top."

"In fact, it is a Byzantine-inspired gadrooned dome on a double tambour," recited Snape, reading his guide book, "covered by scales of slate".

"Uh-huh... If you say so!"

Snape described each detail of the Old Cathedral external walls with exotic words like "tympanum", "trumeau" and "oculus", making Harry roll his eyes.

The New Cathedral was bigger, and had been constructed attached to the Old one, leaning on its north wall.

"The New Cathedral was constructed conserving the Old one, an unusual procedure at that time. As it was constructed between the 16th and 18th centuries, it is a blend of Late Gothic and Baroque," read Snape. "The dome and the upper part of the belfry are Baroque."

Near the north entrance of the New Cathedral, Harry approached to observe the miniature carvings that run in long stripes on the facade. There were carvings of bulls, gargoyles, rabbits, pigs, an astronaut...

"Hey, look at this! What's an astronaut doing on the facade of a 16th century church?"

"Cathedrals require constant maintenance and restorations," explained Snape, but he didn't sound very sure.

Harry shook his head, unyieldingly. An astronaut on the facade of a Gothic cathedral was complete nonsense.

As the only entrance to the Old Cathedral was through the New Cathedral, they entered the New Cathedral. Harry stared in awe at the Flaming Gothic towers and the dramatic vaults. Yet, Harry was even more impressed with the Old Cathedral. In the main altar of the central chapel, there was an amazing set of panels displaying events in the life of Christ and the Virgin.

"What do you know about these panels?" Harry asked Snape, profiting from his personal tourist guide.

"It is a _retablo_, or an altarpiece, formed by 53 panels painted by Nicolás Florentino in the 15th century."

In the semi-dome alcove above the panels, a fresco of bright colours, also by Florentino, portrayed the Last Judgment.

Harry was still admiring the fresco when bells chimed nine. "I'm hungry."

"Let's go back to the inn and ask if they are serving dinner yet," said Snape.

sSsSs

When they arrived at the inn, Mr Clavero received them with his habitual smile. He told them they started serving dinner at eight-thirty and escorted them personally through the corridor to the restaurant, always talking to Snape in Spanish.

The restaurant was in a high ceiling room, in rustic style — bare walls bathed in the golden light of chandeliers. The floor was paved in decorative Spanish tile and the ceiling adorned with coppery terra cotta. A wooden counter topped with glass jars containing olives, onions and all kinds of pickles concealed the kitchen's door and shelves lined with wine bottles. Huge chunks of _lomo_ (a cured pork sausage) and cured ham hung above the counter. Snape explained that that was a tradition in Spain, and that Salamanca was the land of pork and beef.

However, as it was Friday, the dishes of the day were all fish based. They decided to share a _merluza con chipirones_ (hake with squids). According to the brunette waitress who seemed unable to take her dark eyes from Snape, the portion was large enough for two. Accompanying the dish, _vieras com amanitas _(disgusting clams with mushroom, in Harry's translation), that Harry didn't even try, _verduritas salteadas_ (vegetables sautés) and _pasta fresca con setas_ (a tasty pasta with mushrooms).

Snape had ordered a white wine, "Palacio de Rueda", and when he first tasted it, he closed his eyes in pleasure. Harry gaped at him. He had never seen Snape pleased about anything.

"Sublime," murmured Snape, in a low, velvety voice that elicited a physical reaction in Harry.

His own reaction left Harry worried and confused.

Seeing Harry's astonished look, Snape shook his head. "You are too young to appreciate a good wine."

Relieved that Snape had misinterpreted his reaction, Harry finally tasted the beverage that had evoked such an enthusiastic response from Snape and... wasn't impressed at all.

"I thought you despised Muggle things."

Snape glared at him. "So this is how you see me. Of course. As I was once a Death Eater, you must think I loved having fried Muggle babies for breakfast. If I deny it, you will not believe it: you have never paid attention to anything I said."

Snape's words were full of anger and strongly contrasted with his former friendly attitude. After the initial shock, Harry felt angry too. He hadn't said anything offensive. And Snape had always been a git. Snape didn't have the right to be insulted by what Harry had said.

"I heard you calling my mother a Mudblood."

A vein throbbed on Snape's forehead. "You know nothing about me, Potter. Nothing! You have no idea. Don't talk about what you don't know."

"I should've known it was impossible to talk to you. How naïve of me."

Snape clenched his right fist, as if ready to strike, but then he relaxed and continued to eat, his head high, his face impassive. Harry felt bad, and couldn't understand why. Rationally, he couldn't see anything wrong in what he had said.

Harry started eating again, but the food had lost its flavour. The minutes dragged by. Harry began to worry that they wouldn't be able to work together if they continued to fight like that. "If you don't want to go with me to the _Cueva_, say it now. I need to know."

"This case has nothing to do with our personal feelings, Potter. We have a deal; I will do my part. It is a habit of mine."

Harry felt part of the tension dissipate. "All right. So... can you tell me what you know about the _Cueva_?"

Snape emptied his plate, poured himself another glass of wine and sipped it, as if to show he wasn't in any hurry. Harry had also finished his plate and waited as patiently as he could for Snape's answer.

"As you must know, the Inquisition had a devastating effect on the witches and wizards of this country," Snape began. "All the witches and wizards of that time were exterminated or had to hide. Because of that, the next wizarding generation lost contact with the old traditions. I suppose the new generations had never been interested in the _Cueva_, either because the place had been kept sealed by the Muggles, or because the legends spread by the Muggles were too absurd."

"You may be right. There're scarce references to the _Cueva_ in our libraries."

"Yes. There are references only to Scot, perhaps because Scot actually was from Scotland, and a wizard too important to be forgotten. Nonetheless, when the sources mention the cave where Scot learned magic, the references are too vague. I had to research in Muggle sources to find references to the _Cueva_."

Harry looked at Snape suspiciously. What was that about Snape and Muggles again? What was he playing at? "So what do the Muggles say about the _Cueva_?"

"Ah, the most fantastic stories. They say the Devil used to teach Dark Arts there, in person. During seven years, he would teach seven pupils. The tuition fee was the soul of one of his pupils."

Harry sneered. "I've read about that. And what about the Marquis of Villena, who lends his name to the tower that stands over the _Cueva_?"

"The tower never belonged to Villena, and Villena never was a Marquis. His name was Enrique de Aragón, and although a marquisate was at one time in the family, the title was revoked and annulled by Henry III. According to the legends, he was one of the pupils taught by Devil and who, by the end of the seven years, lost the draw on the day tuition was due... Villena was a peculiar character. He seems to have been a very intelligent and cultivated gentleman. He was a writer, translator and surgeon; he studied Mathematics, Astronomy, Alchemy and Philosophy. No wonder such a learned man was imprisoned by the Inquisition, on charges of witchcraft and necromancy! They burnt his books, and he died in jail."

"That's outrageous."

"Indeed. Salazar Slytherin had his reasons for defending the segregation. But there are as many idiotic Muggles as there are imbecile wizards, and not all the Muggles are dunderheads. Villena wasn't a wizard. He was a Muggle who studied many unorthodox subjects in depth, such as the Magical Arts. Nonetheless, he was a Muggle, just as the ones who defamed him and caused his imprisonment. As for the Inquisition, it was undoubtedly a dark period for the wizards and witches, but some of the legends about it had been exaggerated."

"From what I remember from Binns's classes..."

"Binns is a dreadful teacher. You shouldn't trust anything he taught you."

Harry sighed. "I don't remember much, anyway."

Surprisingly, Snape's mouth formed a half-smile. Harry felt reassured and took another gulp of wine. "What else do you know about the Marquis?"

"When the Devil tried to collect his tuition, the Marquis used all that he had learned to trick the Master and win his freedom. He hid himself in a clay jar until the Devil, panicked at the sight of an empty prison, rushed out in pursuit of his prisoner, without closing the crypt door."

"Ahahahaha! So the Marquis cheated the Devil."

"The Marquis made it out alive, but lost his shadow, which stayed behind in the crypt, in the hands of the Devil, who had grasped at it desperately as he struggled to stop the fleeing prisoner."

"What! He lost his shadow?"

"Yes." Snape's lips curled in a smile, half sardonic, half amused. "The Marquis, says the legend, walked the rest of his life through the sunny streets of Salamanca... without ever casting a shadow."

Harry shook his head. "Surreal."

"No doubt."

"So you think this is all codswallop."

Snape pondered for a moment, then fixed his eyes on Harry's. "I believe the _Cueva_ was indeed a magical site, perhaps an ancient Celtic graveyard. A sacred place where people gathered to practise magic rituals long before the Middle Ages. The Schola Obscura was probably just one of the groups that used to gather there. The Catholic Church tried to destroy that, to erase from the people's minds the connection with magic. Hence the building of a church on the magical site. As that was not enough, the Inquisition burnt all the books that mentioned the _Cueva_, and had the place sealed."

"Do you think that there are wizards nowadays trying to revive the Schola Obscura and recover the _Cueva_'s traditions?"

"I believe the _Cueva_ has never ceased to be used for magic rituals. Of course not everyone who frequented it knew what they were doing, though."

The waitress approached to clear the dishes from the table, and brushed Snape's shoulder with her cleavage. Harry rolled his eyes, and Snape smirked at him. The waitress offered desserts. Sulking, Harry opened the menu and ordered a _Coulant fluido de praline de avellanas y chocolate blanco com helado de galleta_. Snape asked just a cup of coffee with a chocolate truffle.

"Do you know what have you just ordered?" asked Snape, while the waitress walked away, swaying her hips.

"Of course I do."

In fact, Harry had only a pale idea, and was very pleased when he discovered it was a petit-gâteau of hazelnut praline, with white chocolate ice-cream and wafers on top. Harry had never eaten a more delicious dessert. The white chocolate wasn't too sweet, and the cake had a rich taste with a lush, crunchy texture.

However, the sugar overdose after the wine left Harry sleepy.

"Potter, if you fall asleep at the table, I will leave you here and Apparate alone to the _Cueva_."

"I'm not sleeping!" protested Harry. "All right. Let's go."

They stood up. Snape nodded at the waitress, who flashed a warm smile. They left the restaurant, climbed the staircase and crossed the corridor to their room.

When Snape gestured for Harry to hold his arm, Harry rebelled. "Listen, I'm not your pupil any more. I'm an Auror, and can Apparate as well as you, or even better! You don't have to carry me everywhere."

"I hope you haven't forgotten that _I_ am in command. I will side-Apparate you whenever I wish."

Harry sighed and reluctantly wrapped his arm around Snape's hooked arm. As soon as he did it, Snape closed his arm, holding Harry's arm against his body, as if to be sure Harry wouldn't escape. Harry couldn't help being surprised at Snape's protective, possessive attitude. Snape was an enigma Harry could not decipher.

sSsSs

They Apparated beyond the Roman arch and the wired fence that surrounded the church of San Cebrián. The night was dark, for there was no moon, and cold. Harry wished he had brought a warmer coat to Salamanca.

"Here we are," whispered Snape, releasing his arm. "In the _Cueva_."

Harry looked around. They were in an open courtyard in ruins, stones scattered around the whole area. "But this is just a courtyard!"

"Indeed... Apparently there is nothing here but ruins." Snape walked across the crypt, the tip of his wand lit. "However... I can feel the magic. Can't you feel it?"

Harry closed his eyes to focus, and felt the air vibrating slightly. "Yeah... I think I can feel something."

Snape approached a tall block of stone. "This is the Tower of Villena. It was part of the Roman wall that protected the city against enemy attacks."

Harry came near. The fallen stones blocked the entrance and hindered the view of the inside.

"The magic of centuries is concentrated here," Snape murmured.

For a moment, Harry let himself be contaminated by the poetic spirit that seemed to have possessed Snape. But soon more practical concerns overtook him. "Very moving, but what should I tell Robards, my chief?"

"If we don't find anything, they will probably send squads and destroy everything from here to the centre of the Earth," declared Snape, in a louder tone than usual.

Harry stared at him, puzzled. "Do you really think so?"

"I am absolutely sure. The Ministry will put on an act in order to convince the public that there was a group of dark wizards here that had to be exterminated, and they will destroy the place. They will tear it stone from stone."

Harry was going to argue that that wasn't the Ministry's _modus operandi_, more to contradict Snape than out of real conviction, when a silver glow lit the inside of the Tower, and a figure started to form before them.

It seemed to be the ghost of a tall, lean man with a dark wig and the tips of his dark moustache curved upwards.

"You disappoint me, gentlemen. I thought you were civilised wizards," he said, in perfect English with just a touch of Spanish accent.

"Marquis of Villena, I presume?" asked Snape.

The gentleman bowed and smiled. "At your service."

Harry was sure he knew him from somewhere, but couldn't think how. "Er... Mr Marquis, excuse my indiscretion, but how can you speak English?"

"Mr Potter, the fact that I am dead is not a reason not to study new languages! Perhaps you don't know, but I was a translator when I was alive, and..."

"Oh, right. Please excuse my ignorance: I didn't know ghosts could learn new languages."

"In fact we ghosts tend to be quite conservative: we keep doing what we did when we were alive. I liked to study and practise new languages, and I seem unable to break the habit."

"Why do you think we are not civilised wizards?" asked Snape.

"Would civilised wizards destroy a temple of magic?"

"Ah, but apparently this place is nothing but a legend. I can't see anything here that is worthy of preservation. I see nothing but old stones," snapped Snape.

"The deepest magic works in the invisible, gentlemen!"

Harry was becoming more and more suspicious. But Snape was acting naturally, as if he expected what was happening.

"We need solid evidence, Marquis."

"If I were you, I wouldn't meddle with such dangerous matters," said the Marquis, sounding more mysterious than threatening.

"Are you implying that this is really a portal of communication with Satan?" asked Snape.

"I cannot say anything about that. As you know very well, a _deal_ has to be made."

"Are you proposing us a deal with the Devil?" asked Harry, more and more intrigued.

"Me? Oh, no. But if you want to meet Him, be aware that the price is high."

"Would you lead us to Him?" asked Snape.

"Come tomorrow at midnight and I will lead you... to your destiny."

"Why tomorrow? Why not today?" Snape insisted.

"Believe me, it is for your own good that I am asking you to come back tomorrow. This way you will have time to reflect on the deal you are about to make and decide... if you really want to make it."

With those words, the Marquis vanished in the air.

Suddenly, the night seemed colder and darker than ever. Snape approached Harry and held his arm. "Let's return to the inn."

sSsSs

As soon as they Apparated into the room, Harry went to the bathroom and had a shower. When he stepped into the room again, in his pyjamas, he found Snape comfortably seated in the armchair with a book. Snape stood up, put his book back into his holdall and went to the bathroom. Harry gazed at the bed, not knowing what to do. Exhausted, he ended up sinking into the armchair.

"Wake up, Potter."

Harry opened his eyes and couldn't understand why Snape was in front of him. In a nightshirt, to top it off! "Uh..."

"I could very well sleep by your side and no part of my body would touch any part of yours. However, as you are clearly terrified at the prospect of such a _repulsive_ contact, I have cast a magic barrier along the central line of the bed, and made both sides of the bed separately, each with its own sheet and blanket."

Harry felt confused. Snape seemed truly offended — more than offended, _hurt_ — and Harry couldn't understand why. Certainly, Harry had implied that Snape could want to sexually harass him, which was preposterous. Harry knew that that was an absurd and irrational idea, but part of him was still not so sure.

"Where did you find another sheet?" asked Harry, deciding to steer the subject to more trivial things.

"I called the lobby and asked them to bring me an extra one."

"Ah. All right."

Perhaps because Harry had sounded hesitant, Snape murmured in his lowest tone, "You may test the barrier, if you want."

Harry almost said that that wasn't necessary, that he trusted Snape, but a demon inside him made him want to provoke Snape. He touched the barrier and confirmed he wasn't able to pass beyond it. Snape glared at him, probably furious because Harry didn't trust him.

"I can't break the barrier, clearly, but what about you? How can I be sure? Maybe I should cast my own barrier," said Harry.

Snape seemed about to explode. "Do as you want, Potter. I am tired. Don't forget that I am here on your request. You don't have to make a scene just to show how disgusting you think I am. We both know very well what your feelings are for me."

Snape slid beneath the covers, on the right side of the bed. Feeling guilty and not knowing why, Harry snuggled down under the covers on the left side.

Notes:  
(1) Free translation: "Good afternoon, gentlemen. I hope you had a nice trip."  
"We did have a nice trip, thank you."


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter III**

When Harry awakened, Snape wasn't in the bed, or even in the room. Harry went to the bathroom, brushed his teeth and fruitlessly tried to tame his unruly hair, as he did every morning. Back in the room, he removed the magic barrier Snape had cast on the bed, lest the maids should enter to make the bed and be scared by it, and smoothed the covers. Then he went downstairs for breakfast. He had a piece of melon with ham, and was pleased to confirm that the ham of Salamanca deserved its reputation as the best ham in the world. He had also a cup of coffee with a tasty sponge cake.

After finishing breakfast, Harry walked to the lobby. Mr Clavero flashed one of his kindest smiles.

"Good morning, Mr Potter! Mr Snape went out for a walk by the river."

The old man seemed to have read his thoughts. Harry credited that to Mr Clavero's many years of experience with his guests.

"Thank you, Señor Clavero. I'll take a walk outside too."

Harry stepped out, walked around the hotel and then crossed a green lawn to reach the river bank. The sun had just risen, and the clouds on the horizon were coloured in rosy hues. Snape could be glimpsed in the distance, walking by the river towards the inn. Towards Harry. Harry felt a strange trepidation. The wind was blowing, messing up his hair even more. He laughed at the thought that Snape's hair wasn't a model of good behaviour either. When Snape got near enough to see Harry's face, Harry was smiling, and felt stupid for that. "Hello," he said, trying to disguise his embarrassment.

Snape didn't say a word, and kept walking.

"Hey, aren't you going to say hello?"

"What do you want me to say? Should I talk about the weather, the landscape, or other trivialities?" asked Snape, walking on past Harry.

"I don't do small talk either," replied Harry, turning around and hurrying to catch up with Snape. "But this place is really beautiful."

"I just came from the Roman bridge. It's impressive."

"Oh. I'd like to see it too. It must be beautiful, especially at night. What else have you seen on your walk?"

"A few locals decorating their restaurant for the _Lunes de Aguas_."

"What is this _Lunes de Aguas_ about?'

Snape gave a crooked smile. "This holiday has its origins in a 16th century custom. King Phillip II decreed that the prostitutes who lived in Salamanca had to be ferried across the river to La Salud de Tejares, on the other side of the river, and stay there during the forty days of Lent. On Ash Wednesday, a clerical figure jocosely referred to as "Padre Putas", would take them out of the city. Padre Putas would also assist and take care of the prostitutes until a week after Easter, on the Monday of Quasimodo, when they were allowed to return. They returned in boats decorated with flowers to differentiate them from the normal boats. The students of the University waited for their return at the Roman bridge, with Easter cakes. This day is still celebrated nowadays. People come from all parts of the country to eat the traditional _hornazo_, a patty stuffed with sausage and boiled eggs."

Harry laughed. "What a story! Padre Putas! How would you translate that into English? Father Whores? Father Pimp Daddy?"

Snape grimaced. "I wouldn't dare try. I was expecting you to ask me about Quasimodo..."

"Okay. I know that Quasimodo is the Hunchback of Notre Dame, of course. But why is there a Monday of Quasimodo?"

"In fact, the Hunchback of Notre Dame was named after the Quasimodo Sunday, which is the first Sunday after Easter, because he was found abandoned on the doorsteps of Notre Dame on that day. The name Quasimodo came from the Latin text of the traditional Introit for this day, which begins '_Quasi modo geniti infantes..._' It's from the First Epistle of Peter: 'As newborn babes...'. Literally, _quasi modo_ means 'in the manner of'."

"I'm impressed. You really did your homework."

Snape smirked. They walked in silence for some time. As they approached the inn again, Harry feared Snape might want to get rid of him. "I was planning to visit other places in the city"  
"Do as you please. I will not require your assistance. We have just one appointment tonight, at midnight."

"Yes, but... you're such a good tourist guide. I was wondering if you would like to go with me."

Snape's eyes seemed to pierce into his soul. "You are finally acknowledging some of my virtues!"

As soon as he recovered from his astonishment, Harry controlled the impulse to say Snape didn't have many. It wouldn't be wise to provoke another fight. So he opted for a modest complaint. "You never acknowledged any of mine, either."

Snape arched an eyebrow. "You have a singular talent to irritate me. Very few people can achieve this feat so easily."

Harry couldn't tell if Snape was joking or not, but he laughed, anyway.

sSsSs

They spent the rest of the morning and beginning of the afternoon visiting historical places: the University, the Casa de las Conchas (House of Shells), and the strange Torre del Clavero. As everything closed from 2 to 5 pm because of _siesta_, they stopped for lunch - nothing terribly expensive, just some _tapas_ (1) with wine - in the spacious and magnificent Plaza Mayor. It was about 4 pm when they split the bill and went to see the Casa de las Muertes (House of the Dead), with its ominous skulls decorating the facade. Harry amused himself by counting the storks nesting in the bell-tower of the churches, and after 5 pm, when the shops reopened, Snape stopped at every clothing shop to admire the cloaks, especially those with charro buttons (2).

In the evening they came back to the inn, exhausted, and decided to have dinner early so that they could have a rest before going back to the _Cueva_.

It was only at dinner that Snape mentioned the subject Harry had been avoiding for the past 23 hours. "You do realise that we will have to go through some sort of trial in the _Cueva_, don't you?"

"Yes. Do you have any idea of what kind of trial it might be?"

"I believe we will be tempted. Each of us will be offered a coveted prize... Perhaps the satisfaction of our deepest desire. In exchange of our soul, as those who believe in the Devil would say."

"Like the Mirror of Erised. But... do you believe in the Devil?"

"There are no demons except the ones we create for ourselves. It is inside of us that they will find the weaknesses to tempt us."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"I don't know exactly what we will have to face. In any case, the question is, are you prepared to have your heart's desire appear, and... refuse it?"

Harry wondered what his heart's desire was. He wished no one had died because of him. Neither his parents, nor Cedric, nor Sirius, nor Ginny. Especially Ginny, because... her death had been too painful. Yes... He would give everything to have Ginny back.

Snape was staring at him intently. "Are you prepared to meet again those you have lost"  
"You slimy git. You're reading my mind."

"You may not believe me, but I am trying to help you."

Harry didn't know if he was prepared or not. Snape sipped his red wine and flirted with Consuelo, the brunette waitress, and that annoyed Harry even more. Harry tried to calm down. Snape looked calm, but he was probably fighting his inner demons too. Harry drained his glass and poured another.

Half an hour later, they went back to their room, tired and slightly drunk. Harry stretched out diagonally on the bed, taking all the bed space. Then he saw Snape standing at the foot of the bed, and retreated to his side. "Oh, forget those stupid barriers. Just lie down and relax."

Snape took the phone off the hook, dialled and then started to talk in Spanish. From what Harry could understand - he was beginning to learn Spanish! - Snape had asked to be woken up at a quarter to midnight. Snape turned off the phone and took off his cardigan. Then it dawned on Harry that Snape was undressing. In front of him! As matter-of-factly as if he did that every day, Snape unfastened his trousers. Harry's mouth went dry. He sat up on the bed and started to undress too, trying not to look at Snape.

Harry caught a glimpse of Snape in his underpants - the fine swirls of dark hair on his chest, well-defined muscles, broad shoulders and a noticeable bulge in the front of his underpants - before Snape slipped under the covers. Harry took off his glasses, then his jeans and t-shirt.

Finally, Harry lay down and pulled the covers up. The scent and the warmth of Snape's body surrounded him, and Harry almost moaned out loud. He blamed the wine. There couldn't be another explanation. It had to be the wine.

The phone rang and woke Harry from a dream where Snape was kissing him and pressing their bodies together. Half-opening his eyes, Harry saw Snape taking the phone off the hook and groaning something. Terrified, Harry realised his cock was painfully erect under the covers, its tip leaking pre-come. Snape stood up and went to the bathroom. Maybe Snape had had the same dream and was now wanking in the bathroom... That thought was enough to make Harry moan in frustration. He reached down and squeezed his cock in his hand. Then he buried his face into Snape's pillow and breathed that scent that was making him crazy. He pumped his cock harder and came quick and intensely, biting his lip not to cry out.

He cast a cleaning spell, smoothed the sheets and pillows and... everything was back as it was before. Or at least that was what Harry wanted to believe as he put on his trousers, t-shirt and jumper.

Snape emerged from the bathroom already dressed. "Are you ready?"

"Yes."

Snape opened his side of the wardrobe and produced a green fleece pullover jacket. "Put this on," he said, handing the elegant coat to Harry. "It's cold outside."

Harry remembered he had felt cold the night before. As now they would be going to the Cueva at later hours, it would probably be even colder.

The jacket had the same masculine scent that emanated from Snape. Harry closed his eyes and put it on. When he opened his eyes, Snape was reaching out to adjust the jacket on Harry's shoulders. "The colour matches your eyes," Snape murmured in his deep, velvety voice.

Harry felt his heart race. Something was happening here, and he was afraid to find out what it was.

"It's time to go," said Snape, holding his arm.

sSsSs

They Apparated to the same place as the previous night. Everything looked exactly the same.

Snape released his arm and Harry walked around the courtyard. Suddenly, he glimpsed a hole in the back of the courtyard. He approached it. Snape followed right behind him. It was a stairway leading into the darkness.

Snape brushed him aside. "I will go first."

Harry let him do as he wanted. They started descending the steps. When Snape arrived at the bottom of the stairs, Harry could not see him any more. Harry finished descending the stairs and found himself in a completely dark place. "Snape?"

No reply. A feeling of panic threatened to overwhelm Harry. But then a familiar scent enveloped him, and Harry recognised the flowery smell he associated with Ginny. An image formed before his eyes. It was Ginny, exactly as she had been four years ago: the same amused light in her eyes, the same vivid, flaming red hair.

"Ginny!"

"Harry..."

As when they had first kissed, Ginny ran towards him and threw her arms around him. "I'm so glad you came. Now we'll be together, forever," she whispered in his ear.

Harry knew it was an illusion, and his conscience tormented him. If he allowed himself to be seduced by that illusion, he would become a plaything for other beings whose purpose he didn't even know. But how sweet it was, to have the love of his life in his arms again!

Harry was giving in to his deepest desire when he remembered Snape. He couldn't leave Snape there alone. It had been because of Harry that Snape had embarked on that crazy adventure. What could be Snape's heart's desire? If the two of them succumbed, the Wizarding World would be in danger. No; he had to do the right thing. He couldn't stay there with Ginny. He had to find Snape. However, he wasn't strong enough to send Ginny away.

He pulled Ginny by the hand into the darkness. He kept walking, and concentrated his mind on Snape. He had to find Snape.

As if by magic, when he finally could focus his mind, he found what he wanted. But Snape wasn't alone. He was holding someone in his arms. For a moment, Harry felt jealous of whoever was there. When he could see more clearly, though, he saw that the person in Snape's arms was... himself.

Not believing his eyes, Harry saw Snape kneeling at the feet of the other Harry.

"Forgive me, Harry," said Snape, his voice husky and tremulous.

The other Harry wrapped his arms around Snape's shoulders and gently pulled him up until they were in each other's arms again.

"I forgive you, Severus."

Snape embraced him fiercely, burying his face in the curve of the other Harry's neck.H

A lump formed in Harry's throat. He swallowed hard, knowing what he would have to do. He came near Snape and held his arm. "Snape. He's not real. I'm the true Harry. We have to go."

Snape turned his face from the illusory Harry and looked at the real one. "You don't want me. Let me stay here."

"But this is not real. You'll be a puppet in their hands."

"I don't care. My life has no value to anyone. Here I have what I want."

"No! We can't stay here. I'll give up my heart's desire." As soon as Harry spoke these words, Ginny vanished in the air. "I came to take you with me."

"I am not as strong as you are."

Harry held Snape's arm firmly. "Come with me. I'll take you out of here."

Snape gazed at him with a pained look, but held Harry's arm.

sSsSs

Harry side-Apparated Snape back in their room. Snape sunk in the armchair, looking defeated. Harry undressed, put on his pyjamas and lay on his side of the bed. "Come and have a rest. Tomorrow you'll feel better."

Snape slowly took off his shoes, then his clothes. He put on his old nightshirt and lay down.

Harry wanted to hug him and say how sorry he was. He gently touched Snape's shoulder, but Snape brushed his hand off.

"Don't touch me," hissed Snape between clenched teeth.

As Snape caught his wand and cast the barrier between them, Harry felt his eyes stinging. Harry could understand very well what Snape was feeling. Harry had had to give up on his greatest dream that night, but he had done it by choice. For Snape, that must have been a terribly humiliating experience. Harry wished to tell him it wasn't pity that moved him. But Snape would ask him what it was that he felt for him, and... Harry didn't know.

He wished he could tell Snape that he forgave him, just like the Harry of Snape's dreams, but it wasn't true. Harry didn't believe he would ever be able to forgive Snape.

sSsSs

Notes:  
(1)_Tapas_ are essentially snacks, but in Spain they are often combined to make up a full meal.  
(2) A traditional ball-filigree button, which is the emblem of Salamanca.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter IV**

The next morning, when Harry woke up, Snape was putting his things into his holdall.

"What're you doing?" Harry grumbled.

"I am going back to England."

Harry sat up immediately. "What?"

"There is nothing else I can do here. Yesterday we saw how their game is played: we will not learn their secrets unless we seal the deal."

"Well, what about me?"

"Do as you please. I have nothing to do with your decisions."

"Ah, so that's how you handle things? You run away at the first sign of trouble?"

Snape paled instantly and stepped towards him. "Are you going to call me a coward again?"

Harry froze. Why did they always come back to the same point? "Listen... I don't want to fight. Why are you so difficult?"

"I am difficult? I can't even list all the defamatory things you have said about me, and now you say _I _am difficult."

"You probably won't like if I mention what happened last night, but there's no other way."

"And you will be happy to call me a coward if I tell you I don't want to hear."

Harry pretended not to have listened. "Yesterday I gave up on my greatest dream because you were there, and you were real." Harry looked into Snape's eyes and saw a spark igniting in them. "I went after you and when I found you with another version of myself... I felt proud, but also jealous. Yesterday I couldn't understand my own reaction, but now I understand what I felt. You love that Harry, the one who's in your imagination, the one who forgives you and who needs you in a very special way. You love him, not me."

Snape's eyes seemed to sear into Harry's very soul. "You are making no sense."

"I'm being very clear. You love the Harry of your dreams because it's easier. Because you don't have to fight for him."

Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Oh, I see. You want me to kill dragons and duel for you."

"No. You know it's not that. You love me just because you think you can't have me."

Snape held both his arms violently. "What do you mean? What do you want from me?"

"Above all, I want you to stay."

"What for?"

"We've each confronted our heart's desire, and we didn't succumb to it. Now all I want is to know what the _Cueva_ is about — this is now my heart's desire. I don't think they can tempt me with another illusion. I believe that, together, we can go back to the _Cueva_ and... cheat them. If we're together, it'll be easier. Yesterday I held on because of you and... well... I managed to take you out of there too, didn't I?"

"Nonsense. We hardly agree about anything!"

"I'm not so sure. When we're not fighting, we get along quite well."

"This is a truism, Potter."

"Whatever. You understood what I meant. I _like_ being with you."

"Are you implying that I have a chance with you?"

"I... I don't know."

"In that case, I prefer to leave. I have no interest in idle daydreams."

"I know I'm being vague, but I _feel_ it can work. I'm a terrible Legilimens, but if we join our minds, if we manage to communicate mentally with each other..."

"Who said you are a terrible Legilimens?"

"You! I never trained Occlumency again, after our lessons. There're very few Legilimens in the Wizarding World. Even among the Aurors, we don't have a good one."

"I have never said you were a bad Legilimens. What I said was that you weren't working hard enough, that you weren't making an effort to block you mind. But your potential as a Legilimens was evident. You even managed to break my defences once — something that the Dark Lord... that Voldemort could never do."

Harry felt proud and hopeful. "See? Another reason for us to work together. Even you acknowledge that I managed to break your defences. That must be because there's a kind of magical empathy between us."

Snape looked thoughtful. "Indeed. Since those days, in your fifth year, I have wondered..."

"You suspected we had a magical empathy?"

"Yes."

"If you stay two more days, we can practise mental communication. You had that with Dumbledore, didn't you?"

"Yes, but Albus trained me for months! You don't think we will achieve that in two days, do you?"

"No, but if we work together for two days, I believe this will be enough to..."

"To cheat the Devil?"

"Well, the Marquis could do it! Don't you think we can do better than the Marquis?"

Snape's lips curled into a half smile, and he shook his head. "Gryffindors..."

sSsSs

After a long debate, they decided to practise by the river. When they were crossing the lobby towards the door, Harry's eyes met the portrait of the gentleman with dark mane. "Snape. Look at this portrait. Isn't it the..."

"... Marquis of Villena. Without any doubt."

The two of them turned to Mr Clavero, who gave them his usual kind smile.

Snape looked annoyed, and pulled Harry by the arm. "Come on. There is something peculiar about Señor Clavero."

Snape didn't mention the subject again. Neither did Harry: he didn't know what to think. They sat on a stone bench by the river. Snape looked around, as if to be sure they were alone. Then he discreetly pulled his wand out of his coat. "If we cast Legilimens on each other at the same time, we will be able to travel through each other's minds."

"Aren't you going to block me?"

"I have nothing to hide from you or anyone. You consider me a monster. What you will see will be innocuous if compared to the horrors you attribute to me in your imagination. Besides, I will be busy watching your secrets..."

"So I'll read your mind as you read mine?"

"Haven't I told you already that the mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure? You still do not understand fine distinctions."

Harry sighed. "Whatever. What I want to know is, aren't we going to mix our thoughts, if we cast Legilimens on each other at the same time?"

Snape made an impatient gesture. "Not if you concentrate."

Harry took a deep breath. His previous experiences with Snape delving into his mind hadn't been pleasant or reassuring.

"On the count of three," Snape warned. "One... two... three... Legilimens!"

"Legilimens!"

Harry felt Snape invading his mind and going straight to the most humiliating scenes of his childhood. Harry struggled to focus on Snape's mind.

Snape as an infant, in his mother's arms. He was just a baby, smiling to his ugly mother. He looked cute as a baby, his hair not so greasy, his nose not so big, and a hopeful glint in his dark eyes.

A gigantic man loomed over Snape. Harry shrank back when he saw him — it was as if he could feel Snape's fear. The heavy hand of the adult man slapped Snape. Little Snape, who surely couldn't be more than five, let out a growl of pain and anger and rolled on the floor, blood dripping from his mouth.

Snape in a forest, holding hands with a red haired girl. Mist drifted up, veiling the starry sky.

The same girl, in Slughorn's Potion class. Snape showed her something written in his textbook, and they both laughed. Snape lowered his head so that the teacher and the other kids couldn't see him laughing.

A slightly older Snape... 17, perhaps 18 years-old... shagging an Indian girl, who was clearly older than he. Harry kept watching, but they went on and on... She came once, and then twice, and he still continued, and continued... They looked so perfect together, her golden skin contrasting with his paleness. Harry envied her, and didn't want to watch them any more.

Snape in his late teens, or perhaps early twenties, brutally raped by a much older Death Eater. The violence of the scene shocked Harry. He wanted to kick the bastard in the crotch.

Snape and other male partners. The devoted lover Harry had seen with the Indian girl turned into a taciturn, malicious and brutal man.

A hall of mirrors, and Snape's image in all of them. Then Voldemort's image towered over him. Harry shrunk again.

Snape hidden in a corner, like a scared little bird who didn't know where to fly. He was paler and skinnier than ever, his eyes widened in terror. In the middle of the dark, Dumbledore's face appeared. Dumbledore reached out, and Snape held his hand.

Snape fighting Fluffy. Snape with his robes on fire after trying to save Harry in the Quidditch game. Snape roaming the castle in search of Harry, his expression tense, and then relaxing when he saw Harry by the statue of the humpbacked, one-eyed witch that guarded the passage to Honeydukes.

Snape saying to Harry, in Harry's fifth year, "Yes, Potter. That is my job". Snape's eyes were glinting, and there was a curious, almost satisfied expression on his face.

Once again, Dumbledore and Snape. _Don't ask me that, Headmaster. Anything but that._

sSsSs

When Snape broke the spell, Harry was drained. In Snape's eyes, Harry saw his own shocked feelings mirrored. Could Snape have seen in his mind scenes as painful as the ones he had seen in his?

"Was that your Aunt, that woman who almost hit you with a frying pan, and who used to make you work like a slave?"

Harry just nodded.

"And your Uncle was the man who used to lock you in the cupboard?"

"Yes."

Snape stood up briskly and paced across the grass.

Harry bit his lower lip and stood up too. "Why are you so shocked now? You already read my mind before, when you tried to teach me Occlumency."

"Indeed, I had already seen scenes of abuse." Snape stared at him intently. "Back then, I had many other concerns. Now..."

"Now what?"

"Now the scourge of guilt is inexorable."

At first, Harry didn't understand, but gradually the pieces began to fit into place: Snape felt guilty for Harry's childhood, because, if he hadn't mentioned the prophecy to Voldemort, perhaps Harry's parents wouldn't have died.

Harry wished he could say he forgave Snape and was sorry for not having understood before that Snape was trying to help him. Why was it so difficult for him to do any of those things? "I'm tired," was all that Harry managed to say, unable to stand all those conflicting emotions any longer.

"Do you want to stop? What happened to your speech about magic empathy?"

"No, I'm not giving up. It's just that... I don't think it will do us any good to wallow in guilt and bad memories. Can't we try something lighter?"

"I am sorry, but I don't think you will find roses or candy floss in my mind."

Harry laughed. "Candy floss... That reminds me. I've bought _almendras garrapiñadas_ at the inn's restaurant."

"_Almendras garrapiñadas_?"

"Yeah. Sugared almonds turrones," explained Harry, showing-off his newly acquired Spanish skills. Then he produced a small package from his pocket and handed it to Snape.

Snape tasted one and grimaced. "Inedible, and a tooth breaker."

"Oh, come on. You must like some candy!"

Snape rolled his eyes. "Sweet-tooth people are impossible. You simply cannot believe some people do not share your addiction."

After a few minutes, Harry felt prepared to restart practice. "I'll try to concentrate on silly things now."

Snape quirked an eyebrow, and counted down to cast Legilimens again.

Harry spent a long time browsing Snape's teenager years, and discovered that Snape liked to read nautical and pirate stories, and that he had a crush on Captain Ahab. He thought Snape would be very embarrassed if he knew Harry was seeing those memories. Harry wondered what Snape could be watching in his mind. He shivered and lost concentration. Then he saw what Snape was seeing: the moment when Harry had kissed Cho. Their thoughts mingled and intertwined. Snape kept his eyes fixed on Harry's, and Harry could see the image clearly: Snape holding him in his arms and kissing him. An intense hit spread through Harry's body. Snape's kiss was eager, ravenous, and evoked in Harry a breathtaking desire.

"We will not go far if we pursue this path," said Snape, breaking the spell.

They stayed in silence for long minutes. Harry ate more of his turrones, trying to stop thinking about the kiss.

"I never imagined you could participate in a ménage-à-trois," snapped Snape.

Harry had to make an effort to remember what Snape was referring to. Then he realised Snape must have seen him with Kathryn and Edward.

"I told you there were many things you didn't know about me," said Harry, feeling victorious because Snape was jealous of him.

"Who were your partners?"

"Kathryn was in the Auror training program with me. Edward was her boyfriend."

"Is she an Auror now?"

Harry smiled. "No. She didn't pass the exams. In fact, I think she wouldn't have liked the job. She likes parties and hanging around with her friends. Our work in the Ministry is quite boring..."

Snape narrowed his eyes at Harry. Harry wasn't going to tell him that Kathryn and Edward hadn't meant much to him, and that he had never seen them again after he had finished the Auror training. So far, Ginny had been his only true love.

"Since you took the liberty of asking me personal questions, I'd like to ask you two questions too," said Harry anxiously.

"Do you want to know about Rosier?"

"Was he the bastard who..."

"Yes. Rosier was the father of my House mate, Evan. He was an old ally of Voldemort, one of the earliest members of the Death Eaters. I revenged myself on him later. It was a subtle and terrible vengeance..."

"Did you kill him?"

"Oh, no. Death would have been too good for him. I just slipped a drop of a certain potion in his glass of Firewhisky. That potion prevented him from doing what he did to me to anyone else. _Forever._"

Harry shivered and decided not to ask for details.

"I suppose your other question is about your mother," said Snape.

"Yes."

"She was my friend. But I thought she had betrayed my confidence. I was rude to her and we never talked again." Snape lowered his eyes. "That was perhaps my first big mistake."


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter V**

It rained in the afternoon, so they practised mental communication in their room. It was more and more difficult for Harry to ignore the sexual tension between them. In spite of the distractions, however, by the end of the day they could read each other's mind without having to cast Legilimens.

Dinner passed in silence. The _solomillo _(sirloin steak) was superb. The artichokes with lamb sweetbread were incredible. The wine, a Sierra Cantabria, was a perfect match for the menu — Harry was starting to fall for the wines of Spain.

For dessert, Harry ordered a _chocolate en texturas_. But when it arrived, he realised it would be too much, even for him, and he convinced Snape to share it with him. They asked Consuelo to bring them another plate. When Consuelo approached, Harry glared at her.

The dessert was more than amazing, it was a _sin_: there were pieces of brownie, mousse and flan, all topped with chocolate ice-cream and coated in crunchy caramel.

Every time their eyes met, Harry feared that he would see his desire mirrored in Snape's mind. He averted his eyes to avoid being drawn into sensual images of their two bodies moving together feverishly and...

Harry sipped his wine, dodged Snape's eyes (which seemed to pursue his) and bit his lower lip when he realised he didn't even have to read Snape's mind, that Snape's mere presence was enough to bring Harry's body alive with awareness. The chemistry between them was so palpable that Consuelo didn't dare flirt with Snape.

Harry wondered if he had managed to scare her with his evil eye.

After dinner, they went back to their room to sleep — with no magic barriers, but no contact either. Harry was in lust, and he_ knew_ Snape wanted him too. And yet, there seemed to be an invisible barrier between them.

He dreamed of Snape: Snape had decided to stay in the _Cueva_ forever, with the fake Harry. Harry woke up in agony and touched Snape's chest just to be sure he was really there. He felt the steady beating of Snape's heart and calmed down.

When Harry woke up again, the day was breaking. He blushed when he realised he was half on top of Snape, and rolled off immediately. But Snape leapt out at him like a snake striking its prey, and pinned him down with his body.

"Enough, Potter. There is a limit for unresolved sexual tension, and mine has just been pushed beyond breaking point."

Harry moaned and separated his legs so that Snape could nestle between them. "Oh, finally. I was tired of waiting for you to take the initiative."

"Can't you see that the initiative had to come from you, and not from me?"

Harry understood Snape's point of view. He knew Snape had felt humiliated and rejected. First, because the way Harry had reacted when he had discovered they had to share a bed. Then, because Harry had seen Snape's deepest secret in the _Cueva_. Since then, Snape had probably been waiting for a word from Harry — a word that Harry still didn't feel capable of giving him.

"You're making things too complicated," was all that Harry could say. "Besides," he added, "you insisted on being the leader. I was waiting for your command."

Snape leaned over him, and Harry parted his lips, waiting for the kiss. Snape gently teased him with tiny flicks of his tongue. Harry held him by the back of the neck, forcing that elusive tongue to slide into his mouth.

Harry moaned appreciatively when their tongues met. Snape inhaled, a gasp of surprise, and Harry slid in deeper, intoxicated by the bittersweet flavour that was so Snape-like.

Snape pulled back a little to lock his eyes with Harry's. "Tell me what you want."

"The same as you do," replied Harry, breathless.

Snape made a choked-off sound and kissed Harry again, deeply and slowly, as he slipped his hand beneath Harry's pyjama shirt. Cold fingers touched a nipple, sending shivers of pleasure all over Harry's body.

"Harry," whispered Snape in a hoarse voice, rolling the nipple between his thumb and a finger.

Nothing could be more arousing than hearing Snape say his name as he touched him.

"Severus," said Harry, savouring the word as though it were precious in itself.

Severus brushed the covers aside, pulled up Harry's pyjama shirt and sucked one of his nipples, making Harry writhe with pleasure.

Harry countered by squeezing Severus's arse through his nightshirt. "Please... I want to feel your skin against mine."

Severus didn't think twice and started to undress Harry, caressing every inch of skin he unveiled. When Harry was in his underpants, Severus stopped and swept Harry's body from head to toe. The desire in Severus's eyes connected straight to Harry's cock, which was already hard.

Severus swallowed and took off his nightshirt. Severus's cock was clearly erect beneath his white underpants. Harry reached out and touched it gently through the fabric.

Without taking his eyes from Harry's, Severus took off his own underpants. Then, slowly and relishing every moment, he took off Harry's. Harry felt vulnerable and exposed, but the sight of Severus's cock, hard and desirable, helped him to overcome his shyness. Unable to wait any longer, Harry pulled Severus down. Their naked bodies entwined, and they rolled on their sides.

"Oh, god," Harry murmured, burying his face in the curve of Severus's neck and biting it softly.

Severus responded by wrapping his arms around Harry's waist and rubbing their cocks together. "I want you," Severus whispered hoarsely.

"Fuck me, Severus."

Severus groaned and ran his hand down Harry's back, pulling Harry tighter to him. "I will chant a mantra, and you will repeat it after me."

"What... ?"

"Do as I tell you. I haven't got any lube, but this is not a problem. There are many fluids in our bodies. We just have to chant the right words and they will do what we need them to."

Severus circled Harry's entrance with his finger.

"Oh... I'll do anything you ask me to... Just put your finger inside me."

Severus gave a crooked smile, then started chanting the mantra. Harry didn't understand a word, but tried to imitate him. He felt his body relaxing and becoming more alive at the same time.

"This mantra will make our coupling easier. Your muscles will become more pliant, and our bodily fluids will work as natural lubricants," explained Severus in his professor-like style.

"If you taught those things in class, I'd surely have paid attention."

Severus stopped drawing those tantalising small circles around his entrance and slid his finger in easily. Harry's muscles clenched around it firmly.

It was too good for words. Severus pushed a second finger inside and moved both fingers in and out of Harry, harder and faster. That mantra was simply amazing. Being stretched had never felt so good before. Harry bucked his hips back against Severus's hand, trying to get more of Severus's fingers inside him. Severus's strokes became faster, and he kept moving his hand until Harry was fucking himself on his fingers.

"That's enough. You already had too much fun," said Severus, gently pulling his fingers out.

"What a cruel lover you are."

"Patience is the greatest of all virtues." Severus knelt between Harry's legs, his cock glistening, and guided it to Harry's entrance. Harry gasped as Severus's cock slid into him in a smooth thrust. Harry drew in a shuddering breath and thrust back against Severus. His cock sheathed inside Harry, Severus rotated his hips slowly and pulled out, only to thrust back in.

Severus folded himself in against Harry's chest. Harry clung to him, arms and legs wrapped possessively around him. Severus slid into and out of Harry, holding him, filling him, deep and hard.

They fitted perfectly together. Severus's cock filled every inch of Harry. Sweat coated their panting bodies, and their pace increased to a near frenzy. Harry wished they could be like this forever, but pleasure was building inside him almost too fast to control.

"Harry," said Severus, sounding choked as he reached down and closed his hand around Harry's cock. It was just too much: the touch of Snape's fingers alone was enough to make Harry shudder and come in a ragged cry.

Severus bit down on Harry's neck with a strangled groan, multiplying the force of his thrusts. Harry tightened his arms around him, rocking his hips up. Severus thrust once, twice, and sighed a long low moan against Harry's neck as his own orgasm took him. Severus released his pleasure deep inside Harry and slumped down on him.

Harry held Severus tight as their breathing returned to normal. Severus rolled off Harry and lay next to him. Their eyes met. Severus looked sad.

"What is it?" asked Harry, afraid that Severus might be disappointed at him. But when he looked into Severus's eyes, he understood. "What, do you think I didn't like it?"

"Don't lie to me."

"Look into my eyes, Severus, and focus on what _I_ am thinking, instead of fighting with ghosts that exist only in _your_ mind."

Severus entered Harry's mind and his concerned expression changed immediately to a smirk. "Oh, that good? I don't think so. I can do much better than this."

"You're never satisfied, are you?"

"I cannot complain. It was a great fuck. I wish I could have lasted longer, but I was hard as hell."

"Not harder than I was," said Harry, smiling.

Severus stared at him intently. "If you give me another chance, I can make you come two, three times in a row. Later."

"Like you used to do to your Indian girlfriend?"

"Damn. I forgot that now you know all my secrets."

"Tantric sex, isn't it? Was it she who taught it to you?"

"Yes. Her name was Amita."

"What happened to her?"

"She went back to India when she realised Voldemort was a threat to the Wizarding World's peace. She used to say she wanted to marry and have children, and that that environment wasn't adequate to raise her children."

"Did you love her?"

"I was completely smitten."

"Why didn't you go with her?"

"I was young and ambitious. I believed the Dark Lord would conquer the world, and I would be honoured and respected by everyone."

Harry sighed. "Amita was a wise girl. But what's the fun in shagging and never coming?"

"It's a ritual worshipping of your partner."

Harry's chin didn't touch the floor just because he was lying in bed. "You surprise me, Severus."

"I am inferring that you will give me another chance."

Harry flashed a sardonic smile. "You realise I'm not a girl, don't you?"

Severus frowned, then gave a half smile. "Oh, I see. You don't believe I can make you come three times in a row. Let me enlighten you: there is a girl inside every one of us. We just have to activate the right hormones."

Harry sighed. "But I don't want a lover who never comes. I prefer you as you were today."

Severus rested his hand on Harry's chest, in a possessive gesture. "We shall see..."

Harry covered Severus's hand with his. "I wish we had done this before. I wanted it so much, but I was afraid."

"Oh, I had no desire to involve myself with you either. However, when I had that vision in the _Cueva_, it was like a spark in the powder room: my new-born lust for you met my desire for redemption. Suddenly, I realised I wanted _you_, the only person who can give me, not redemption, but forgiveness, at least."

Harry felt a knot in his throat. "I'm sorry, I..."

"I know. I don't really expect your forgiveness. I will never forgive myself, so I cannot expect that from anyone else, and especially from you."

"Severus, please, don't give up. I want to be able to forgive you."

Severus shook his head. "I cannot give up. This is my heart's desire, and it's unattainable. Perhaps you were not far from truth when you said I desired the impossible." Severus interlaced their fingers and squeezed Harry's hand firmly. "As for the rest, you were wrong."

"What rest?"

"You said I only wanted you because I couldn't have you. Now I can tell you that's not true."

Severus's reasoning was convoluted, but Harry was beginning to understand him.

"Because you still want me," said Harry.

Severus captured his lips in a long, slow kiss, followed by another, and yet another...

Long minutes after, they were interrupted by loud noises coming from outside.

Severus frowned, then said, "Happy _Lunes de Aguas_."

"Oh, so this is why people are so noisy today! Uh... Are you calling me a whore?"

"Never. You are mine now. Just mine."

Harry smiled. "It's a beautiful symbol. I'll always remember that our first time was in the _Lunes de Aguas_. I know we've been here for just three days, but it seems we had to wait a long time to, you know..."

"To fuck."

Harry burst into laughter, and Severus laughed too.

"What I meant was that, after a long time, we finally found what we were looking for," said Harry, and grabbed him for another kiss.

sSsSs

They spent the _Lunes de Aguas_' afternoon picnicking by the Tormes, eating _hornazos_ and drinking red wine like everyone in Salamanca.

Their mental communication flowed easily; they just had to be close to each other, preferably in visual contact. In the evening, when they returned to the inn, Severus told Harry he didn't know if Harry's plan would be successful, but that, in what depended upon mental communication, they were ready.

Harry wished he could stay longer in Salamanca with Severus, but he knew the Ministry wouldn't keep them there without any practical result. The two of them discussed their alternatives and agreed to visit the _Cueva_ again that night.

A few minutes before midnight, Severus wrapped an arm around Harry's waist. "Don't leave my side. We must stay in visual contact. _No te pierdas de mi vista_."

sSsSs

TBC (Just one more update to go! I'll post the final chapter and the epilogue together.)


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter VI**

They Apparated near the stairway leading to the _Cueva_. Severus held Harry's arm firmly and led him down the steps. When they arrived at the bottom of the stairs, the darkness was complete.

Suddenly, a golden light appeared. They could see the cave — the moss-covered bedrock walls, the leveled floor, and the cobwebs hanging from the ceiling. The beam of light hit the surface of a wall and, as if he were watching a film, Harry could see the a group of men wearing animal skins and furs gathered in a circle. That image was replaced by another, of giants talking to dwarfs and plain men wearing tunics. Then a man who Harry imagined to have lived in the time of the Roman Empire appeared alone, looking at the entrails of a bird.

"It's an Auspex," said Severus. "He is examining the entrails of the bird in order to interpret the wishes of the gods."

That image gave way to another one, showing a group of Moors. Many groups of Moors followed in succession. Gradually, a few Spanish (or other European people) started to appear as pupils of the Moors. The Moors taught them many subjects, from Maths to Astrology to Divination. Some practised Necromancy; others, Alchemy and Hermetic Cabala; still others studied dreams. Grimoires were written and their teachings were transmitted from generation to generation. People danced around a pentacle, chanting invocations. They didn't use wands or spells like the wizards and witches Harry knew.

When the beam of light focused on a man wearing flowing robes, a close-girt waist, and a pointed cap, Severus squeezed Harry's arm. "Look! It's Michael Scot. He was the one who introduced the new fashion for wizards: the robes and the pointed cap."

"But we don't use belts!" protested Harry, smiling because Severus's comment had sounded very gay.

There weren't any Moors in the images that followed; just Spanish people. A sort of priest conducted the rites. The priest had a copper key hanging from his neck. Apparently the priest kept his position until his death, and then he was replaced by another one.

One image succeeded another, and other groups came into sight. People reading books, writing Mathematical symbols or drawing on the cave walls in the flickering light of candles. Ill people were brought in and healed; other people had visions and hallucinations. People became invisible or vaporized in a flash; other people appeared out of nowhere. Some people could control the winds, the waters, and influence the stars; others could raise earthquakes.

People's clothing changed according to their time. Images of men wearing linen shirts with a ruffled collar and matching wrist ruffs were followed by images of other men, wearing wigs and sleeveless jerkins. As in a strange, static fashion show, one fashion followed the other: doublets, many different styles of hose, baggy breeches, pantaloons... Women wearing flamboyant hats and large full skirts talked to men in frock coats. Women in corsets and bonnets; men in coats, suspenders and side-whiskers. The bob cuts of the Roaring Twenties, and the mini-skirts of the Sixties.

They were approaching the contemporary times. The long hair and the bell-bottom jeans of the Seventies were a hit when a young priest started to conduct the rites. Harry thought he knew him, but it was only after he watched a few more sequences of images, when hair became shorter and clothes more colourful, that Harry recognised him: it was the mysterious Señor Clavero, the owner of the Posada del Clavero. The last image they saw showed themselves, two days ago: Harry holding Ginny, Severus embracing the imaginary Harry, and then Severus between the real and the imaginary Harry.

When the last images vanished away, Clavero appeared in front of Severus and Harry. "I'm glad you came."

"Señor Clavero, I believe you owe us an explanation," said Severus.

"Please, have a seat," said the old man, pointing to a tiny amphitheater with seats covered in red velvet.

They descended some steps. Harry chose a seat and sat down. Clavero sat a few seats from him, at an angle. Severus took the seat beside Harry.

"As you probably could see, this place has been used for more than a thousand years for the practice of magic," began Clavero. "Some say it was the Orculi, or Dactyls, and the Janae who taught the secrets of magic to the first men. I myself cannot tell for sure, because, as you must have guessed, this place shows their guests exactly what they want to see."

"Like the Mirror of Erised," said Harry, but he had barely spoken when he realised Clavero wouldn't be able to understand the reference.

"I am not acquainted with this object, Mr Potter, but I suppose you wizards have many wonders I have never heard about, or even imagined!"

"You mean that, in spite of your powers, you don't consider yourself a wizard?"

"I am not part of your community," replied Clavero.

"He is a Muggle, Harry. He and all the people whose images we have just seen, perhaps with the exception of Scot." Severus turned to Clavero. "'Muggle' is the term we use to describe non-magic people."

"I see. It seems to me that you wizards have segregated yourselves from the non-magic people, and jealously keep your knowledge for yourselves. But we, the so-called Muggles, have magic potential too. A potential that can be developed."

"Unfortunately, the Wizarding World believes wizards and witches are born, not made," said Harry.

"Very well said, Mr Potter: unfortunately. First, because you are wrong, and the _Cueva_ is the evidence of your error. Second, because your mindset will eventually create dangerous animosities between our worlds. In fact, this is already happening, right now."

"What exactly is the _Cueva_?" asked Severus.

"A place with magical properties where people face their own desires and learn to get in touch with their magic powers."

"Señor Clavero, do you know why we came here?" asked Harry.

"Yes. You came because of Parejo."

"Did you already know who we were when we arrived at your inn?"

"In fact, before that. It wasn't by chance that you went to my inn. Let's say that I... interfered in the course of events."

"In this case, you owe us a full explanation," said Severus in his lowest tone.

Mr Clavero nodded, a smile on his lips. "Parejo was my pupil. When he discovered the existence of the Wizarding World, he became angry. He hated the wizards and witches for segregating themselves from the normal people. Parejo wanted to show the witches and wizards that he could be better than them. He was determined to conquer what he considered the most advanced centre of the Wizarding World, the United Kingdom. And he was succeeding when he was caught."

"There's something I don't understand. Who are you?" asked Harry. "Just normal people who study magic?"

"I couldn't have expressed myself better, Mr Potter," said Clavero.

"All right... But, what has the Devil to do with that?"

Clavero laughed. "Those are just superstitions of people who don't know anything about magic. We, from the Schola Obscura, let them think what they want. If we let the truth be known, we would be persecuted both by the Wizarding World and the... Muggles who reject magic."

"The first night we came here, we saw the ghost of the Marquis of Villena," said Harry.

"He helps me watch the place. When he heard Mr Snape saying the Wizarding World would destroy the _Cueva_, he decided to do something. He asked me to let you in. He thought you would succumb to your desires and stay in the _Cueva_. He was wrong." Clavero looked at them with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Or not?"

"So you are like a Secret Keeper, I mean, you are a kind of guardian of the _Cueva_," Harry inferred.

"Yes. I am, to be more precise, the _Clavero_. The keeper of the keys. It's up to me to decide who can enter the _Cueva_ and who can't. I decided to let you in."

"Why?" asked Severus, looking intrigued and concerned.

"I knew the Wizarding World would send people to investigate Parejo. It was inevitable. I _diverted_ you to my inn, so that I could keep an eye on you."

"Why did Parejo die?" asked Severus. "Is there some sort of pact of silence involved here?"

"Of course we have a pact of silence, but no one dies because of it. Parejo died because he programmed himself for that. He would rather die than betray the Schola."

Harry was impressed, and also concerned. "Mr Clavero... You're putting me in a difficult position. I have to report what you told me to my superiors."

"If you do that, the Wizarding World will destroy what we have here," said Clavero.

"He is right, Harry. There is no possible accommodation between the Wizarding World as it is today and a group of Muggles with special powers who can threaten our world."

"What shall we do then?" asked Harry, feeling lost.

"I would like to make you a proposal," said Clavero. "Our organisation has a fund, made up of donations from our members, especially the most affluent ones, through the years. With this money, I could hire you to teach in the Schola Obscura. We cannot afford high salaries, but you could live in my inn. You would have both bed and food, and a little money for your extra expenses."

At first, Harry rejected that proposal as unacceptable. How could they leave the Wizarding World? But then he turned to Severus and saw a spark flickering in the depth of his eyes.

"I would be honoured to teach in the Schola Obscura, Señor Clavero," said Severus, straightening up in his seat.

"Severus!"

"I have nothing to contribute to the Wizarding World, Harry. Mr Clavero is offering me a respectable position. What is more, I am sure Mr Clavero's proposal is not a one way street: I have a lot to learn here too."

Harry knew Severus was right. Severus was a pariah in the Wizarding World. Clavero was giving Severus his dignity back.

"I'm flattered by your words, Mr Snape, and place myself at your disposal," replied Clavero, a radiant smile on his face.

"Besides," said Severus, smiling and turning to Harry again, "San Isidro is a pleasant place to live, and Salamanca is an interesting city."

"I'm sorry, but I won't leave the Ministry!" said Harry

"There is no need to make a hasty decision." Severus turned to Mr Clavero. "I would like to discuss this subject with Mr Potter..."

"As you wish, señores. We may talk again tomorrow morning. I will stay here and meditate upon the subject. The _Cueva_ has always given me good advice."

sSsSs

Back to the inn, Harry paced the room. Severus was sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard.

"Do you really think the Ministry might create problems for the Schola Obscura?" asked Harry. "The Ministry of Magic doesn't even have jurisdiction over Spain! The case would have to be taken to the International Confederation of Wizards and the International Federation of Warlocks."

"The Schola Obscura is not a wizarding institution," said Severus.

"Well, our Ministries are linked to the Muggle governments," Harry argued.

"Which is an absurd state of affairs," commented Severus.

"I know you disagree with everything the Ministry does, but can we please concentrate on the situation at hand?"

"Harry, politicians are the same everywhere. If people feel threatened, the politicians will have to act. The only way to change this situation would be to enlighten the public about what the Schola Obscura is. Unfortunately, our press and our politicians are not reliable. I believe you, with your popularity, can have an influence, but, for that, we have to gather evidence that the Schola Obscura doesn't constitute a threat to the Wizarding World."

"We need time," concluded Harry.

"Exactly."

"But you understand the difficulty of my position, don't you? If I go back to London and report the situation to Robards, I'll put the Schola Obscura in danger. If I resign and stay in Salamanca, Robards will surely assign the case to another Auror, and the Schola Obscura will still be in danger. If I go back and tell Robards I didn't find anything, maybe Robards will hand the case to another Auror, maybe not, but..."

"Your prestige will suffer," finished Severus.

"I'm not worried about my prestige!"

"But _I_ am. The Schola Obscura might need your support and your influence. The more popular you are, the more helpful you can be."

"My popularity has nothing to do with the Ministry."

"Very true. And yet, the Ministry is a strategic institution. It's crucial for the Schola Obscura to have an ally there."

"So you want me to stay in the Ministry?" asked Harry, not knowing how to interpret Severus's attitude. Harry had grown accustomed through the years to the feeling of being used, but he didn't expect that from Severus.

"Harry, _you_ said you wanted to stay in the Ministry! I respect your decision. As for me, I have already made my decision."

A knock on the door was heard. Harry opened it and found Clavero there, a twinkling smile on his face. "Excuse me for disturbing you, but I saw the lights still on, and... Well, I had an idea, and would like to submit it to you."

"Of course. Please come in. Have a seat," said Harry, indicating the armchair.

"Oh, no, I will be quick," said Clavero, entering the room and nodding at Severus, who had stood up. "It's late, and we may discuss the subject in detail tomorrow. When I was meditating in the _Cueva_, it occurred me that there is another possibility: Mr Potter could tell his superiors a... slightly different story."

"How _slightly different_ are we talking about?" asked Severus, quirking an eyebrow.

"We, from the Schola Obscura, have been tracking the movements of a group of Dark Wizards with branches in many European countries and the United Kingdom. Mr Potter could link Parejo to this group. I know this is not fair to the memory of Parejo, but if he were alive, I'm sure he would agree. This group, the Neo-Walpurgians, is planning an attack on your Ministry."

"What? And you weren't going to inform us?"

"Oh, they are disorganized, pitiful terrorists. You would have blocked them easily."

"But what is the link between them and Parejo?" asked Harry, bewildered.

"There is no link whatsoever. But I have a few documents... including a map showing the location of their headquarters in London. You could say you found them in Parejo's house. I could give you his address and the documents tomorrow morning."

Severus and Harry exchanged a knowing look.

Then Harry turned to Clavero. "I'll talk to you first thing tomorrow."

sSsSs

There was still a problem to solve. Severus had decided to live in Salamanca and teach at the Schola Obscura, and Harry would be returning to the Ministry and the Wizarding World.

Harry knew that what they had was not a solid relationship yet. But he also knew he didn't want to give up on Severus. He sat at the edge of the bed, close to Severus.

Severus wrapped his arms around Harry's waist and whispered in his ear, "I will be here. You know where to find me. But don't forget that I will be working at night."

Harry turned around to embrace Severus. "I'll come every Friday night and spend the weekends with you. If you have to work on Friday night, I'll wait for you here." Harry pushed Severus down against the bed. "Just don't let Consuelo get too close to you. I don't trust Spanish women. They are too _calientes_..."

Severus's eyes sparkled. "You are jealous."

Harry knew it was immature to be jealous like that, but Severus's joyful reaction was even more endearingly immature and made his heart flutter.

Severus made love to him slowly, drawing out each intimate caress, driving him crazy with need. When Harry came, Severus stayed inside him. Harry opened his eyes and saw Severus gazing at him in silent adoration. Harry reached out to gently touch Severus's face.

"Severus..." was all that Harry managed to say.

Severus stayed still, but his cock pulsed inside Harry.

"I know what you want to do. But I don't want to come again," said Harry. "I want to feel you coming inside me."

"Just this once, I will indulge you," Severus replied, leaning to kiss him and holding Harry's hips, before thrusting deep inside him again.

Harry clung to him with arms and legs and matched the rhythm of Severus's thrusts. Every spasm of pleasure, every jolt of sensation coming from Severus seemed to reverberate in Harry's body. Finally, Severus's body arched and stiffened, and Severus let out a choked cry, filling Harry with his hot semen. Severus collapsed on top of him. Harry wrapped his arms around Severus, and noticed his heart was beating as fast as Severus's.

sSsSs

The next morning, Severus insisted on accompanying Harry to Parejo's house. It was a small house in the Calle Espoz y Mina, in the centre of Salamanca. As they had nothing to do there, they just entered, took a look at the tiny four rooms, and exchanged a last long kiss in an attic cramped with parchments, statues and terra-cotta reliefs.


	8. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

On Friday evening, Harry relived every single moment he had shared with Severus, from their Apparation to the Huerto de Calixto y Melibea to their last kiss in Parejo's house. The desire to see Severus again mixed with the fear that they could realise that those days they had spent together had been nothing but an illusion.

But when Harry Apparated to Severus's room in the Posada del Clavero, those fears and concerns turned into pure lust. After a week of accumulated lust, they made love quickly and passionately.

Then Harry told Severus about his week in the Ministry, from the moment Harry had told Robards about the _Neo-Walpurgians_ to Robards's energetic response and the attack on the headquarters of the unwary group of Dark Wizards. The poor Neo-Walpurgians hadn't stood a chance.

Not without some trepidation, Harry informed Severus that the two of them would receive the Order of Merlin, First Class, for their contribution to the capture of the "dangerous group of Dark Wizards".

Severus fumed. "You must be joking. This is complete nonsense. I will not participate in this circus."

"Listen, Severus, I totally agree with you. But we have to think of the Schola Obscura. You yourself told me we have to convince the public that the Schola Obscura is not a danger. Well, if you refuse to receive the medal, or if you go and spit on it, this won't do any good for your image."

Severus shook his head, and kept silent for a minute. Then he scowled at Harry. "You used to be such a sweet, naïve Gryffindor. Now you are learning to be cunning and politic."

"That means you will attend to the meeting and receive the medal?"

"Any choice?"

Harry shook his head.

"That's what I thought," Severus snarled.

A change of subject was definitely in order. "You still haven't told me about your week."

"Oh, students are the same everywhere. The same bunch of dunderheads."

Harry laughed. "Will you have to go there tonight?"

"No. I'm giving classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays. On Mondays and Wednesdays, Mr Clavero expects me to help on their research. I am allowed to work on potions there too. Because I can Apparate, Clavero gave me permission to enter the Cueva whenever I feel like, and I arranged my schedule to have Friday nights and weekends off. We have fifteen pupils. I will teach them all the fundamentals of our magic."

"All subjects?"

"The most important ones: Potions, Charms, Transfiguration and some notions of Defense Against the Dark Arts. On the other hand, they have amazing skills in Divination, Legilimency and Mind Control."

As Severus talked about the Schola Obscura, Harry could notice his enthusiasm for the new forms of magic he was becoming acquainted with. And behind his cynical facade, Harry could see Severus's desire to be respected and admired.

When they had told each other all about the days they had spent apart, Harry gave Severus a present: a cloak with charro buttons, which he had bought in a shop near the inn a few minutes ago. Severus rebuked him for having bought something so expensive, but when Severus donned the cloak and went to look in the mirror, his contentment was evident.

"I have a present for you, too," said Severus, surprising Harry. "It's not an expensive present like yours, but I think you may like it."

Severus took him to the bathroom, where he had prepared a bath. In the light of candles, Harry stepped into the bath, and Severus dropped rose petals into the water and on him. Severus opened a bottle of red wine and poured a glass for Harry, another one for himself. Then Severus hung his new cloak carefully on a peg and joined Harry in the bath.

They stayed there for a long time, just relaxing and touching each other, on the face, shoulders, hair. After the bath, Severus dried Harry with a soft towel and rubbed him with amber oil. Harry asked to do the same to Severus, and Severus let him.

Harry lay down on the bed, and Severus massaged his shoulders and his back with long, slow movements.

"Breathe deeply," Severus whispered.

Then Severus lay down in front of Harry, looked into his eyes and gently entered his mind. Harry shared his thoughts with Severus and played with Severus's. There was no hurry nor any kind of tension. It was so good to be with Severus that way.

"No anxieties, no demands, no concerns," Severus murmured. "Just join your mind to mine."

They touched each other, fingers moving in unison, feeling the warmth of their skin in lingering caresses.

Harry lost himself in the dance of sweet flesh touching flesh. He couldn't tell how many minutes they passed like that. When their bodies joined, it was in a spontaneous, intuitive movement, as if they knew the right moment and the right way to do it.

The wheel of time stopped for their union. Severus was inside him, and Harry had his legs around Severus's waist. Harry didn't need anything else. There were no goals, just a slow pulsation of energy growing inside him. All limits vanished. Severus and he were one.

The world was melting into sheer pleasure. They were one and two at the same time, in that cosmic game of hide and seek where they lost and found themselves in the rhythm of their bodies.

Harry felt the universe inside him, vibrating in the core of his being, and surrendered to that feeling, and to his lover.

"What're doing to me, Severus?"

"Our bodies are like simmering cauldrons, and all the potions we need are inside us. We can control them, but their delicate power creeping through our veins..."

"... bewitch our mind and ensnare our senses. I know. Hmm... There are some benefits in having a Potions master as my lover. I like to be your cauldron. I like the way you move your ladle inside me."

Severus smirked. "Your metaphors are catastrophic, but I can't deny the chemistry between us. Our bodies fit perfectly together. Once I thought tantric sex was a technique to control other people. It seemed a brilliant idea, to dominate my sexual partners, to control their reactions. I was a fool. It doesn't work like that. The ritual affects both partners." Severus leaned and nibbled at Harry's earlobe. "Tell me when you want to come," he whispered in Harry's ear.

"All right. Oh, this is so good... I want to stay like that forever, just feeling you inside me and touching and kissing and..."

sSsSs

**Meanwhile...**

In the lobby of the Posada del Clavero, Mr Clavero talked to the portrait of the Marquis of Villena — which was, surprising as it may seem, a magic portrait disguised as a Muggle painting. "Severus is adapting quite well to our life style."

"How curious. I have to admit that you were right in the first place. I thought he was a dangerous man."

"He carries a lot of guilt and remorse over his past. He will overcome that, with a little help from the _Cueva_... and from his young lover."

"Alejandro, you are a snake. That idea you had of giving them a double bed? What a devilish plan!"

Mr Clavero gave a mischievous smile. "In the beginning, my plan was just to create hindrances and difficulties for them. But soon I realised there were more mysteries between the two of them than my vain philosophy supposed..."

The Marquis caressed his moustache. "Do you think Potter will end up forgiving Snape?"

"Oh, Harry has already forgiven Severus, he just has to fully realise that." Mr Clavero laughed. "Harry is a confused youth, and Severus is a difficult man. But everything will be all right, Enrique. Don't worry."

**Finis**

Notes:

1) Soon after the events in this story, the Cave of Salamanca went through a restoration process, and now is open for free visits every day. Could the Schola Obscura remain open, in spite of the Muggles' renewed interest in the place? Well... I believe the _Cueva_ has always been under a kind of Fidelius Charm, and I'm sure Snape taught them every spell he knew to prevent them from being discovered. I bet they are still there, and all you have to do to see the _Cueva_ is to find Señor Clavero and convince him to let you in...

2) When I found the perfect epigraph for Chapter 3, I had already posted it. Can a story have... hypographs? Anyway, here it is:

_Dear love, for nothing less than thee  
Would I have broke this happy dream.  
_(_The Dream_, by John Donne)


End file.
